


It's Getting Better in the Worst Way

by snapbackbuddies



Series: Biting the Bullet [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Father-Son Relationship, Gavin Reed Whump, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Whump, connor and gavin are implied to Have Feelings for each other, honestly i just wanted to write connor protecting gavin, kinda. this is pretty shitty i'll be honest, not graphically described though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 04:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapbackbuddies/pseuds/snapbackbuddies
Summary: Connor takes a bullet for Gavin.





	It's Getting Better in the Worst Way

**Author's Note:**

> hello i have fallen into connor/gavin hell
> 
> here's my contribution

When Gavin steps into the house his skin crawls.

He's never been superstitious, and crime scenes don't usually freak him out, but something about this house puts him on edge. He scrunches his nose and scans the room, noting exits and overturned pieces of furniture. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Connor do the same, though his eyes pause on one particular chair. Gavin rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"Jesus, this place is a mess," Hank says as he steps in a moment later, eyes skating over the mess of a living room. Furniture and trinkets and electronics lie scattered absolutely everywhere. It's not the type of house that looks unlived in; it just looks ruined. "Report says neighbors heard shouting and crashing for several minutes, then it ended with a gunshot, but." Hank shrugs. "No body."

Connor steps forward to examine the table and damn chair he keeps staring at. "Every room has been searched already?"

Hanks snorts softly. "Yeah, but I'm sure you'll find something they haven't." Connor is already distracted and steps forward to kneel by the broken kitchen furniture.

"That tin can sure fixates on shit, doesn't he?" Gavin asks, watching from a distance. He can practically see the gears turning in Connor's head, eyebrows drawing together. Hank shrugs, smiling affectionately after the kid. He's really proud of Connor, Gavin knows. Sings his praise to Fowler every other day. Gavin can't stand it.

Gavin steps towards one of the doorways to enter another one of the rooms, then pauses. Connor stands from where he was squatting and stands next to him, peering into the dark room as well. Gavin squints. It almost looks like– 

Connor shoots his arm out and yanks Gavin's body around, tugging him close so they're chest-to-chest. He spins them around until Connor's back is facing the darkened doorway, shielding Gavin with his own body. Connor does it all so quickly, whipping Gavin around and curling into him, that Gavin's face crashes forward into Connor's shoulder. "Ow, my _nose_ , th'fck are you–"

A gunshot cuts through the stillness of the abandoned house, making all the humans flinch. It almost makes Gavin miss the way Connor jerks against him, then slumps forwards onto him. His breath rasps in Gavin's ear.

“Oh God. Oh, God,” Gavin breathes, grabbing at Connor's arms, scrabbling for a hold in his panic.

“Connor!”

Miller and Brown charge the hidden attacker while Hank rushes towards Connor, his face a mask of panic. Gavin stares at Hank, eyes wide with shock, before glancing back to the android in his arms. Connor makes brief eye contact with him, and opens his mouth as if to speak. He only manages to gag, then choke up blood before sinking to his knees. Blue bubbles over his lips and stains his chin. Gavin doesn’t move. Can’t move. He's slipped to the floor with Connor.

Connor's blood soaks his t-shirt. 

Why the fuck would he do that? Why would Connor–

Hank reaches them, thuds to his knees at their side. He reaches out to hold Connor's head in his palm, the other hand feeling for the bullet wound. “Connor! Connor, son, just hang on, don’t worry, kid, I gotcha, I gotcha,” Hank says, tearing at Connor's white button-up– well, blue, now, Gavin thinks, and he's starting to feel _sick_. “What did it hit?”

Connor’s eyes struggle to focus, to stay open. Gavin finally manages to uncurl his fingers from Connor's shirt as Hank grips Connor tighter, shakes him a little. “Say something, Connor! What do I do!”

“Bullet is lodged in my abdomen,” Connor finally struggles to say, his movements jerky and halted as he reaches for Hank’s jacket, to clutch in that childlike way that he does. Like a kid hiding behind his mom’s leg. Gavin’s stomach flips. “I- It’s disrupting thirium flow and causing my thirium pump regulator to malfunction. I'm going to– shutdown is–"

“Why’d you do that?” Gavin snaps suddenly, leaning down and grabbing Connor by the collar threateningly. He tugs Connor closer, eyes searching his face desperately. His LED is blinking red, chest suddenly starting to shake. “ _Why’d you fucking do that?_ "

“Hands off him!” Hank snarls, one hand shooting up to pull Connor away from him, to cradle Connor’s head reassuringly. His LED spins a steady, solid red, and Gavin realizes his eyes have welled up with those damn artificial tears. His breath is hitching, eyes swaying around the room.

“I– I–“

“Stress levels, kid. Stay with me.”

“92% and climbing,” Connor says, his breath taking one final, hitching gasp before outright bursting into tears. “H-Hank, I shut down in three minutes, I'm out of time–"

Gavin thinks he's slipped into shock, maybe.

Connor is dying. Connor is going to die. Because of Gavin.

" _Gavin!_ " He feels Hank smack his head. He barely reacts, eyes moving listlessly to Hank. Some pity rests in the gaze he finds Hank levelling him with, but Hank is still urgent, a man desperate to save someone he loves. "Gavin, _stay here with Connor_. You understand me? Keep it together. I have to run to my car for some emergency supplies. I'll be _right_ back. Watch his stress levels."

It's when Connor processes that Hank is leaving, leaving him with Gavin, that he begins to self-destruct.

He reaches up, gasping and sobbing, to claw at his chest, and it takes Gavin a minute to realize he’s reaching for that red, circle thing in his chest– the important one they need to replace. His fingers catch on the rim like he’s about to pull and–

“Fuck! Fuck, fucking Christ, no!” He lurches towards Connor, pinning his hand down and away from his own chest. “Don’t do that, Hank's gonna get you fixed–“

“I have to do it,” Connor sobs, writhing under him to get him off. “I have to take it out, it's too much, it's too much–"

"Connor! Connor, you saved my life, you have to let me save yours!" Gavin snaps, desperately clinging to the kid's wrists, fighting against Connor's. Jesus, he forgets how strong Connor is. Normally he keeps it under control, but he's an android built for speed and strength, built for a struggle like this. "You _have_ to, you– What are your stress levels?"

"99%," Connor says, shivering uncontrollably. "Sh-shutdown in one minute and 35 seconds– 34 seconds– 33 seconds–"

Gavin squeezes Connor's wrists tighter. "Stop! You gotta calm down or we're both gonna lose it, okay?" Connor counting down like that… Gavin can't fucking imagine what it's like to see the very _seconds_ you have left to live tick down in front of your very eyes. To be constantly aware of just how little time you have left. "You have to distract yourself with something else, okay? Fuck, shit. Uh, what makes you happy?"

"M-my dog."

"Nice, awesome. I love pets. I have a cat named Peanut, 'cause she was so small when I got her. What's your dog's name?"

"Sumo," Connor says, eyes finally finding Gavin's. "He's Hank's, really, he named him S-Sumo. He sleeps with me most nights, with head on the pillow like he's a person. Like… like me."

"Sumo. Why's he named Sumo?"

"I've never asked," Connor says, and he sounds a little less shaky this time, and he's not fighting Gavin's hold anymore. "But he's a big dog, a Saint Bernard, so I always assumed that… that was why. Like a sumo wrestler."

"Cute," Gavin says, loosening his hold on Connor's wrist and starting to breathe a little easier. "What's your stress level at, tin can?"

"78%," Connor says, his hand moving towards his abdomen to cup his hand over his thirium pump regulator, protective this time. "Is Hank–"

As he starts to speak, Hank comes tearing into the house with a briefcase held securely under his arm. He surveys the situation quickly and seems fairly satisfied with Gavin when he finishes, fumbling with Connor's shirt to move it out of the way. "Hang on. Hang on, I gotcha."

"Hurry," Connor says, his voice forced out through gritted teeth. "You gotta replace it."

Hank doesn't waste any more time, just takes hold of Connor's regulator, yanks it out of him, and tosses it to the side. He jams the replacement into the empty slot with a squelch. Gavin's stomach rolls again. Connor gasps, jolting up towards Hank with relief.

"You're–?"

"Condition stabilized," Connor confirms, his head thunking back to the ground. "Thanks, Hank."

Gavin realizes one of his hands has curled tightly into Connor's shirt again. He yanks his hand away. "Wh– What, you're fine? Just like that, you're good?" Gavin is shaking.

Connor throws a glance at him. He gives him a brief onceover, probably noticing for the first time Connor's blood drenching his hands and shirt. He has to notice the way he trembles, and with his stupid android eyes he can probably read his racing heart and blood pressure like a book. Connor's voice is softer, now. "Detective Reed, you're in shock. Maybe you should go home and get some rest."

"I'm not going to get some rest!" Gavin snaps, taking a few jerky steps away from Connor. "I– you– you just almost died in my arms! You were shot, in front of me, and y-you took a bullet for me!" Gavin trips backwards to avoid Hank's hand reaching for him.

Connor took a _bullet_ for him. A literal bullet, and he could have died, and why the fuck would Connor do that for him? Why would Connor _die for him?_ He was a piece of shit, an absolute asshole to the poor fucking android, and if anyone deserved to die– it was _Gavin_ –– Gavin stumbles, lightheaded, and this time he allows Hank to catch him. "Woah, son, careful," he says, and Gavin hears him from underwater. "Connor's right, you're in shock, Reed. Just sit down for a minute."

Gavin is panting. "Fuck. Fuck. I should have died just now. Fuck." He lets Hank manhandle him into a chair, entirely out of fight, now. He's so exhausted. Dizzy. Connor crouches in front of him, and Gavin sways his eyes toward him. Gavin opens his mouth, then shuts it silently. "I wanna go home," he says very quietly.

"That's a good idea," Connor agrees. "But I think it's unwise for you to be alone right now. Is there someone who–"

"I'll take him home," Hank interrupts, reaching out to put a hand on Connor's shoulder. Connor's LED spins yellow for just one rotation, then goes back to a content blue. Hank squeezes lightly. "You oughta go to Jericho and get yourself looked at, kiddo. A new regulator ain't gonna fix the hole in your back."

Gavin's stomach jolts. A nasty feeling curls somewhere inside his ribcage. "I'm gonna be sick," he mutters, curling forward to put his head between his knees. A light hand settles between his shoulder blades, barely touching at all.

"I'll just go to the station and have the techs look at me," Connor says from above him. "That'll be quicker."

A calloused hand grabs him by the arm and tugs him firmly, but not violently, to his feet. He groans. "C'mon, Reed, let's get you home. And don't even think about puking in my car, got it?"

 

––

 

Gavin approaches Connor with halted steps the next day at the precinct. Connor looks up, then cocks his head and smiles when he realizes who's standing in front of him. "Hello, Detective Reed," he says melodiously, with that pretty voice of his. "I hope you're feeling better."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good, tin can," Gavin says absently, rubbing the back of his neck. Hank watches him with amused, squinted eyes. "Hey, I, uh. Wanted to say thanks for yesterday. And sorry, I guess. About, ah. Yeah." He glances over Hank nervously, then clenches his jaw and focuses back on Connor. "Freaking out on you."

The tin can has the audacity to smirk at him, like he knows something Gavin doesn't.

"Of course, Detective."

"And, you're, uh," Gavin steps forward, and reaches a hand out to Connor's stomach. He brushes his thumb over his torso, just in the dip between the ribs, where he was hurt. It's impossible to even tell he was shot yesterday. Yesterday. "You're okay, and everything?" He asks, glancing up from Connor's stomach.

Connor's LED is pulsing yellow.

"Yes," he says after a moment of delay. "I'm perfectly fine, Detective." He pauses, LED spinning faster, then he speaks again, slightly stuttered. "I– You were going to be shot. I did what I had to."

Gavin pulls his hand away several moments too late to be entirely comfortable. "Right. Thanks, anyway, I guess, plastic." He takes several steps backwards, then turns around and heads to his desk. When he sits down, he has the distinct feeling of piercing eyes following his every movement.

"You kids…" he hears Hank say with a snort.

Gavin feels his face go warm.

**Author's Note:**

> please comment and/or leave kudos if you can, let me know what you think!! i love sweet validation and hearing from y'all
> 
> find me on tumblr @deviantrinity!


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